The Shifter Romances The Writer

His only peace came from knowing that Thomas had been dealt with. At least now Roxy would get her divorce and could do whatever she wanted with her life. Hopefully, she’d be happy. He wanted that much for her.

He turned into the parking lot at the sheriff’s department and headed in, hoping work would distract him from everything he was feeling. But despite having a pretty active morning at the station, mostly because of prep for the Panic Parade, his mind returned to Roxy at every opportunity.

And then, just as he was about to head out on patrol (where he would not be driving by Roxy’s house), his mother called. He braced himself with a deep breath before answering. “Hi, Mom. I’m just about to head out, so if this can wait—”

“No, it can’t wait. You live next door to my favorite author and you said nothing to me about this? What is wrong with you? Why are you such a bad son?”

“Whoa, hold up. Who told you—Diego.” Alex closed his eyes and tried not to imagine murdering his brother.

“Yes, Diego, because he is a good boy and knows that this is information his mother would be very interested to hear.”

Alex rapped his fingers on the desk. “For your information, I didn’t tell you because I got her to sign a book for you and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

A shriek answered him, followed by a barrage of happy Spanish. He grimaced and held the phone away until his mother calmed down. It took a minute. Finally, she spoke to him again. “You are forgiven, my angel. Now mi hijo, let me hear all about Miss Roxy St. James. Diego tells me you two are seeing each other, so I have to assume this is the human woman you were telling me about.”

“Yes, that’s who I was talking about, but I’m at work, Mom. I really can’t do this right now. How about I call you later?” Like Christmas.

“Oh no, I’m not going to fall for that. You say you’ll call and then you don’t. I will call you later. And you had better answer.”

“I will.” He’d never been so happy his parents were in Tallahassee. Although he’d be okay if they were a little farther away than six hours. Say, Miami.

“Very good. I love you. And I am so proud of you! Roxy St. James! She must be the most perfect woman in the world!”

She was. Just not for him. “I love you too.”

“Be safe out there today.”

“I’m safe every day. Tell Dad I said hi.” He hung up, then watched his screen until it went dark and his own image reflected back at him.

And what a picture it was. Alex Cruz. Sheriff’s deputy. Supernatural. And persona non grata to the most perfect woman in the world.

By the time he arrived home, he was exhausted from work, from the growing weight of what he’d done to Roxy and just as worn down by the inability to make it better. He got out of his car and stood in his driveway, looking at her house for the longest time. There wasn’t anything new or notable about it, and yet he couldn’t make himself stop standing there, hoping she’d walk out that front door and tell him all was forgiven.

It was such a nice scenario the way it played out in his head.

The purr of an engine brought him out of his thoughts. He turned to see why the sound was so close and let out a long sigh. His evening wasn’t going to get any better, but it was right on course for how his life was going.

The car pulling into his driveway was a shiny red Cadillac. And the woman behind the wheel was his mother. She must have left Tallahassee right after she’d talked to him.

Within an hour of being in his house, Alex’s mother had started a load of his laundry, made a pitcher of her famous lemonade, filled his freezer with casseroles (out of the first cooler she’d packed), tucked a tres leches cake into his fridge (out of the second cooler she’d packed) and was currently making him a dinner of pork loin, rice and beans, and maduros.

Unfortunately, he had no appetite. Hadn’t had one in days. Three days to be exact. He sat in the living room, staring at a baseball game on the television he didn’t really care about, and nursing a beer that was growing warmer by the minute. But the living room was a lot safer than the kitchen, and pretending to relax in front of the ball game was a good excuse not to talk. The other option was studying for the sergeant’s exam, but he didn’t think he’d be able to concentrate. No, the living room was the best place for him with his mother here.

Because Carmen Cruz was a force of nature. There was no point trying to stop her, whatever she was doing. Best to just get out of her way and hold on for dear life.

He sucked down a slug of the beer.

“You want another one, Alexito?” his mother called from the kitchen. She only called him that when she wanted him to do something for her, or she felt sorry for him. He was pretty sure it was the former right now, but would change to the later once she found out what had happened with Roxy.

Because she would find out.

He didn’t really want another beer. But he also wouldn’t mind numbing himself a little. “Sure.”

A minute later, she took the warm one out of his hand and replaced it with a cold one in a Howler’s neoprene coozie. Where she’d found that in his kitchen, he had no idea. She must have rummaged around. He didn’t care.

“There you go.” She stood there a moment. Waiting.

“Thanks.”

She didn’t move. Obviously, he was missing something. He looked up. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you invite your girlfriend over for dinner?”